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Fuck.

I reached the centre doors and hesitated.

‘Harri, come on in, hen! You’ll freeze they big tits right off you out there!’ I turned to see the older woman who was always cracking filthy jokes in the kitchen.

‘Hi, Mags,’ I said, recognising her from the days I’d helped before. ‘I was wondering if my mum’s here?’

‘Aye, she is – so’s your dad. Come on! You’re late!’

She ushered me inside while I dodged icy puddles on the path and hurried through the door, blowing warm air into my hands.

‘You know where she’ll be,’ Mags said, nodding towards the kitchen.

My stomach felt seriously dodgy. Why was I so nervous? Did I just need to fart? Mum had been cooking a food that was a lot fattier than I was used to. I should go back to calorie counting, I thought. Or maybe this was the universe telling me to turn around? From inside, I could hear trays clattering and smell garlic simmering. I walked back and forth for a second.

Fuck it, Harri. Just go in.

I took a breath and stepped into the kitchen, shrugging off my coat and hanging it on a peg.

‘Christ, look who’s back!’ Ina – Jamie’s mum – called loudly from her chair in the corner, where her sore ankle was raised onto a stool. ‘Thought we’d scared you off!’

I turned and smiled breezily. ‘Please. You lot couldn’t scare me that easily. I was married for years.’

Ina burst into raucous laughter.

I spotted Mum and Dad at the back of the kitchen. Dad had apparently taken over my station and was doing his best to chop vegetables while Mum supervised. A smile spread across my face as I watched them.

‘Well, well . . .’ A familiar voice came from behind me.

Jamie. So much for pretending he didn’t exist. Honestly, Jesus must have woken up this morning and thought How can I make Harriette Hope’s life even more awkward today?

I turned to face him, folding my arms. ‘Yes, I came back. Of my own free will, believe it or not. So there’s no need to tease me.’

‘Tease you?’ He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

I felt my face heat. ‘Look, I’ll stay out of your way. I just want to help. Seriously.’

His eyes dropped to my finger. ‘You can’t help in here,’ he said bluntly.

OK, genuinely, what was this guy’s problem? Was I getting kicked out of a volunteer position now? No more influencing, no more husband, no more cutting carrots for the poor.

‘Sorry?’ I put a hand on my hip.

Jamie puffed out a breath. ‘Health and safety. You can’t be near food with that manky plaster on.’

I glanced down at it, ready to argue. But to be fair . . . it did look disgusting. How had it got so dirty when I’d hardly lifted a finger all night?

The kitchen had gone quiet. I could feel everyone watching. Someone rubbed my shoulder and I turned to see Dad.

‘If she wants to help, she can do front of house, Jamie,’ Ina called from her throne in the corner. ‘We need someone to help set up. My ankle is throbbing.’

Jamie shot his mum a warning look, like he didn’t want me anywhere near the place called front of house.

‘But,’ Mum chimed in from the other side of the room, ‘she’s a bit shy is our Harri. She doesn’t like mixing with the community . . .’

I groaned and shook my head. ‘No, Mum, it’s fine. As I said, I want to help. Any way I can.’ I shot Jamie a small nod. ‘I’ll go set up for the guests.’ Then I brushed past him, my shoulder barging into his. Bloody hell, he was muscly underneath that jumper. And annoyingly tall. The man was so infuriating. A tall, muscly twat who went so fucking OTT with his aftershave I felt like I could taste it.

I pushed open the double doors and leaned against the wall as I entered the large hall, then raised my bandaged finger to my face and gave it a discreet sniff, making sure it wasn’t as rancid as it looked.